Being Very Funny on Twitter

10706901_461894267284119_830196062_n

Nothing much is happening.

The book has gone out for the evening, leaving me alone, with, well, just me. I use the time by wasting it, of course. A little bit of Facebook (someone has made some jam!), a little bit of Twitter (someone is Being Very Funny), a little bit more Facebook (someone is Being Very Funny about someone making some jam).

In a fit of self-discipline, I turn on the telly. Some people are sitting at a dining table trying to laugh at each other’s jokes. An election interview. A film with a comic book hero. Some men and some women on some brightly coloured sofas talking about a film with a comic book hero.

The same person who was Being Very Funny on Twitter is now Being Very Erudite with someone very famous. I wonder how I ended up following them. I unfollow them. Then, feeling remorseful, I immediately follow them back again, even though the person does not know me and has never acknowledged me.

Not my most productive evening, I think.

The telly off, the laptop lid closed, I hear the book come in through the front door, placing its keys as it always does in the wooden bowl on the table.

‘Hi!’ I shout into the the darkness. ‘Hello! Did you have a good time?’

Silence. Maybe I just imagined it, I think. Or maybe it is making some tea. I hope it makes me some, I think.  I call down the stairs, ‘Are you in the kitchen?’ Again, silence. I sit for a minute, waiting for the book to come in with the tea tray. Nothing happens.

I switch on the telly again. The comic book action hero has just had his powers taken away by the evil villain. The brightly covered sofas have been replaced by a soap opera. The news credits file up the screen, importantly. Someone not at all famous on Twitter has posted a link to a blog post about sitting in silence and why it is good for you. As I finish reading it, I realise I am crying.

I close the laptop lid, switch off the telly, and sit in the silent room, tears streaming down my face, for no reason that I can think of.

‘I wonder how my blog stats are doing?’ I think, and reach for my mobile phone.

4 comments

  1. blondeusk

    I did laugh at the jam making reference on Facebook – says a lot for the thing which seems to take over our lives and apparently we are supposed to enjoy! I am always crying, don’t worry about it. Great post BTW!

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s